


One For All, All For One

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Assassination Plot(s), Crack, Czech National Team, Friendship, Gen, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Male Friendship, Mousquetaire | Musketeer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young D’Arida wants to join the Musketeers, but his letter of introduction is stolen. Then he meets Pierre, Thomas and David, and mayhem ensues. Mainly due to D’Arida’s obsession with Comte de Barros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One For All, All For One

**Author's Note:**

> OK, I was so happy after we beat the Netherlands that I decided to break the “never write about your own NT” rule. This picture was just too good not to write anything about it.
> 
> A/N: For those unfamiliar with the Czech NT:
> 
> This is Petr Čech (Pierre). You probably all know him. Chelsea FC ‘keeper.
> 
> This is Tomáš Rosický (Thomas). Plays for Arsenal, constantly injured.
> 
> This is David Limberský (David). The Czech NT butcher. Plays for Viktoria Plzeň.
> 
> This is Vladimír Darida (D'Arida). The wunderkind. Plays for SC Freiburg.
> 
> Mr. Pavel Vrba (Monsieur Le Saule), the Czech NT manager.
> 
> And Milan Baroš (Comte de Barros). Used to play for Liverpool, Lyon, Galatasaray, Antalyaspor, and most notably for Baník Ostrava. Please note that I absolutely love Milan, he is my hero and I had his posters all over my room when I was like 12. It’s just that he used to have the reputation of being the “bad guy” of the Czech NT, so he is my Comte de ~~Rochefort~~ Barros.

D’Arida was furious. How could have he lost the letter? The letter of introduction to Monsieur Le Saule, the commander of the Musketeers. The one that was supposed to open the door for him, the door to the career he dreamt about.  
  
No, he was almost sure he didn’t lose it. They  _stole it_ from him. They, as in the company of the arrogant man he met at the inn, who insulted him. He still remembered the man’s face, and he had sworn to himself that if he would meet him again, he would kill him. D’Arida maybe didn’t have any money, but he still had his pride. He wasn’t going to let anyone insult him, even if it was the King himself.  
  
Alright, maybe with the King he exaggerated a bit.  
  
But now he was in Paris without the letter, and Monsieur Le Saule, however kind he was to D’Arida, refused his application. He told him that he could come in a few years. In a few _years_. Like D’Arida could just go home and let everyone laugh at him.  
  
He was so angry that he had to stop by an open window and get some fresh air. He looked down at the street and suddenly froze. The man from the inn was passing in the street. D’Arida knew it was him, he would recognize the dark-haired man with dangerous face everywhere.  
  
This was his chance. He started running down the stairs, when suddenly he bumped into someone. He was too busy to excuse himself, but he didn’t even make two steps when the tip of a rapier touched his neck.  
  
“It’s polite to apologize when you almost run someone over like a mad horse,” the man said.  
  
“I don’t have time to apologize!” D’Arida snapped.  
  
“Maybe you will have time later, then,” the man said. “At noon at Carmes-Deschaux. Take your rapier with you.”  
  
“I’ll be there, monsieur,” D’Arida growled and ran down the few last steps.  
  
At the door he noticed two men talking, but tried to sneak past them anyway. He ended up almost causing one of them to fall.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled this time, not wanting to go through the whole discussion again.  
  
Bad luck. The man immediately grabbed his shoulder.  
  
“You stepped on my shoe!” he exclaimed.  
  
“I said I was sorry!” D’Arida snapped.  
  
“It’s fine leather! A simple sorry isn’t enough!” the man retorted. “Meet me at noon at Carmes-Deschaux!”  
  
“I’m sorry, I can’t be there at noon. At one, though, I will be ready to meet you.”  
  
“Fine, at one, then. Don’t be late.”  
  
“I won’t be late, unless I’m dead. Now please excuse me, I’m in a hurry.”  
  
“I noticed,” the man chuckled.  
  
D’Arida ran out of the palace, hoping for his enemy to be still somewhere out there on the street. He spun around and accidentally hit another man in the face with the feather on his hat.  
  
“Careful, boy, I almost lost my eye!” the man said.  
  
D’Arida didn’t even have the strength to argue with him.  
  
“Fine, fine, at two at Carmes-Deschaux, and now I have to go!” he said and rushed to the corner where he saw the black coat of his enemy disappear.

 

~ ~ ~

  
It was probably the worst day in D’Arida’s life. Not only he was dismissed by Monsieur Le Saule, he also found and lost his enemy again, and now he had three duels to fight.  
  
When he arrived at Carmes-Deschaux, he couldn’t believe his eyes. All three men he had insulted were standing there together, chatting amicably.  
  
“Excuse me,” D’Arida said. “But I was supposed to duel you at noon, you at one and you at two.”  
  
The men looked at each other and started laughing. D’Arida felt the blood rush to his face.  
  
“It seems like the situation is a bit complicated,” the one D’Arida had bumped into on the stairs said. “My name is Pierre. These two gentlemen are my friends Thomas and David. They are my seconds. So if you kill me, then you can duel Thomas while David will be his second. If you kill also Thomas, though, then David will be left without a second. Will you mind that, David?”  
  
“Not in the slightest,” the man D’Arida had hit in the eye with a feather growled.  
  
“Then we can begin,” Pierre said.  
  
They pulled out their rapiers and formally greeted each other. D’Arida rushed forward, surprising his opponent who blocked his blade in the last moment. In the very next moment, he had to jump back because the blade aimed for his unprotected side.  
  
Suddenly a group of men in red uniforms appeared.  
  
“Cardinal’s guards!” Thomas cried out, but it was too late to pretend they weren’t doing what they were doing.  
  
“Oh, what do we have here?” one of the guards said. “Are you dueling here?”  
  
“Not really,” Pierre said calmly. “I’m just teaching the kid here a lesson.”  
  
D’Arida felt like killing the man, not caring at all it would be in front of the Cardinal’s officer.  
  
“Dueling is forbidden,” the officer said. “Put your rapiers away and follow us, or we will have to force you.”  
  
Pierre turned to Thomas and David.  
  
“They are five,” he said. “Three against five, what do you say, gentlemen?”  
  
“I say we either win or die, but both possibilities are better than surrendering,” David said.  
  
“I agree,” Thomas nodded.  
  
“And what if you were four against five?” D’Arida asked.  
  
“You mean... you?” Pierre asked.  
  
“Young man, you are free to go, but leave now,” the officer said.  
  
“I will be staying, monsieur,” D’Arida said firmly.  
  
“What is your name, brave man?” Pierre asked.  
  
“D’Arida, monsieur.”  
  
“You are a great man, D’Arida,” Pierre said and shook his hand. “We will fight, then!”  
  
And the combat began.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
“Who would have thought you are so good,” Thomas said, hissing when D’Arida bandaged his arm with a piece of clean cloth.  
  
“Really,” David nodded. “You impressed even Pierre, and Pierre is not easily impressed.”  
  
They were in a great mood. It didn’t happen to them every day that they would defeat the Cardinal’s guards, and more, when they were outnumbered.  
  
“Gentlemen, I wanted to apologize once more,” D’Arida said. “I didn’t mean to insult any of you. I was just in a hurry because I saw the man on the street...”  
  
“What man?” Thomas asked.  
  
“My enemy. On my way to Paris I met this man, who insulted me and stole the letter of introduction my father wrote to Monsieur Le Saule. When I saw him, I was so angry I didn’t even look where I was running.”  
  
“Do you know who was the man?” Pierre asked, intrigued.  
  
“No,” D’Arida shook his head. “But he acted like he was very important, like an aristocrat. He is dark-haired and wears black clothes.”  
  
“Does he have a scar next to his left eye?” Thomas asked.  
  
D’Arida almost jumped up.  
  
“Yes! How do you... do you know him?”  
  
Thomas exchanged worried looks with his friends.  
  
“It’s Comte de Barros,” he said quietly. “One of the Cardinal’s agents. He’s very dangerous. I suggest whatever matter is between you and him, you drop it.”  
  
“I can’t,” D’Arida shook his head. “He insulted me and stole my letter. It’s his fault I’m not a Musketeer now.”  
  
“Well,” David sighed. “Then there is only one possibility.”  
  
“And that is?”  
  
“You helped us defeat the Cardinal’s men. We help you get Comte de Barros.”  
  
D’Arida’s face lit up.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“It’s what friends are for,” Pierre shrugged, pulled out his rapier and held it out. “One for all...”  
  
“All for one!” the others finished and joined their rapiers.

  
~ ~ ~

  
Monsieur Le Saule of course wasn’t happy about the Musketeers fighting the Cardinal’s guards – he was secretly happy, of course, but had to keep his face. However, he allowed D’Arida to stay with them, not as a Musketeer, but as an apprentice.  
  
“We need brave men in these times,” he said. “The Cardinal is constantly plotting against the King. He wants the war. And he has his agents everywhere.”  
  
“I can assure you, Monsieur, that he will soon have one agent less,” D’Arida said.  
  
David and Thomas exchanged amused smirks.  
  
“Our dear friend here swore revenge to Comte de Barros,” David explained.  
  
Monsieur Le Saule rolled his eyes.  
  
“I thought you were brave, but it seems like you’re rather a fool,” he said. “Stay away from that man.”  
  
“I can’t promise you that,” D’Arida said.  
  
Monsieur Le Saule sighed.  
  
“Luckily you won’t have time for such childish things. I need the three... four... of you to go to La Rochelle.”  
  
They exited the palace together. Pierre adjusted his hat and looked at D’Arida.  
  
“Listen, friend, we have some matters we have to resolve before we leave. You can go today and wait for us at the inn just when you exit Paris.”  
  
D’Arida frowned, but then nodded. He didn’t like the three of them leaving him out, but then, it was just for a day. He mounted his horse and waved goodbye to them.

  
~ ~ ~

  
He arrived at the inn in the evening. He asked for a room and then came back down to have some dinner and wine. The room he was sitting in was empty. Suddenly he heard voices from the next room. He was determined to mind his own business, but then he heard the words “King” and “plot”. If those wouldn’t make him suspicious, there would be something really wrong with him.  
  
He tiptoed to the door. It was ajar and he could see the room, much smaller, lit by the fire in the fireplace and a few candles. His breath hitched in his throat. He could see one of the two persons who were talking. The red robe spoke for itself. The Cardinal.  
  
“The King has to be gotten rid of,” the Cardinal said casually.  
  
“Who will do it?” someone asked.  
  
“I have my people in Paris,” the Cardinal replied. “There is a ball in two days. Many people. It will be easy.”  
  
D’Arida felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. The Cardinal was planning to assassinate the King. He had to do something.  
  
“Eavesdropping is very impolite, young man,” a voice behind his back said and a hand fell on his shoulder.  
  
D’Arida turned around and froze. He was looking at Comte de Barros.

  
~ ~ ~

  
“Who is this?” the Cardinal asked, looking at D’Arida like he was looking at a rat.  
  
“I have no idea, Your Eminence,” Comte de Barros said. “He’s just a very annoying kid who constantly sticks his head where he shouldn’t. I suggest we chop it off.”  
  
“You have my blessing for it,” the Cardinal said. “I have to return to Paris now, or they will start suspecting me. And the last thing we need is a kid ruining our plans.”  
  
“I can assure you, Your Eminence, that this kid will be knocking on the gates of Heaven or Hell when the sun rises,” Comte de Barros smirked.  
  
“In that I hope,” the Cardinal nodded.  
  
Comte de Barros beckoned two of his men.  
  
“Lock him up. He will be executed at sunrise.”  
  
When the door of the inn’s cellar closed behind him, D’Arida kicked it angrily. He swore that he would have Comte de Barros’ head, and it seemed that Comte de Barros would have his instead.

  
~ ~ ~

  
At sunrise, Comte de Barros’ men led D’Arida out of the inn and to the square where a big scaffold was mounted. The swordsman and a priest were already waiting there. The guards made D’Arida climb the stairs and then kneel down in front of the block.  
  
“Do you regret your sins, son?” the priest asked.  
  
D’Arida lifted his head and his eyes went wide. He was looking at Thomas, who gave him a wink.  
  
“You better do,” the swordsman said, in David’s voice, and cut the ties on his wrists.  
  
Thomas pulled out a pistol and shot one of the guards before they realized what was going on. David fought off another one and they ran down the scaffold. A carriage stopped in front of them and Pierre beckoned them from the coach box.  
  
“One for all...” he said.  
  
“All for one!” they finished and jumped in.

  
~ ~ ~

  
“The Cardinal is planning to assassinate the King!” D’Arida said as soon as they were safely out of the town. “At the ball.”  
  
“We need to go back to Paris, then,” Pierre said. “Quickly.”  
  
“What about Monsieur Le Saule’s orders?” Thomas asked.  
  
“I’d say right now they don’t matter,” David shrugged. “He will understand that the life of the King is more important.”  
  
“And when we save the King, I will finally have Comte de Barros’ head,” D’Arida said.  
  
The three Musketeers only rolled their eyes.

  
~ ~ ~

  
The palace was full of people. D’Arida was looking around nervously. They didn’t know who, how and when would try to attack the King. The King wasn’t suspecting anything. Pierre wanted to keep it secret so that they could catch the Cardinal’s henchmen.  
  
The King and the Queen walked out on a balcony to greet the guests. D’Arida looked up and then pulled on Pierre’s sleeve. Pierre gave him a questioning look. D’Arida pointed to a man who was sitting on the roof, with a musket aimed at the King, apparently waiting for the right moment.  
  
“The fireworks!” Pierre said. “He’s waiting for the fireworks to cover the shot!”  
  
“I’m going up!” D’Arida said. “Hold up the fireworks!”  
  
Thomas immediately ran to the place where the fireworks were supposed to go off from. Pierre and David rushed to the King while D’Arida headed to the roof.  
  
He arrived just in time. The man’s finger was already on the trigger. D’Arida jumped on him and the musket went off, missing the King by only a few inches. The crowd cheered, mistaking the shot for the fireworks. At that time, Pierre and David finally reached the King and escorted him inside the palace and the fireworks went off, distracting the people so they didn’t even notice something was off.  
  
Thomas ran back to the courtyard and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the King was safe. He looked up to see the fireworks and then cursed under his breath.  
  
D’Arida was hanging on a banner, his feet dangling in the air.

  
~ ~ ~

  
D’Arida still felt embarrassed after Thomas rescued him from the banner where he ended up after his fight with the assassin, but the other Musketeers assured him that they wouldn’t tell anyone about it.  
  
“The King is safe,” Pierre said. “That is the most important thing.”  
  
“But Comte de Barros escaped again,” D’Arida huffed.  
  
“I’m sure you will have another chance to get him,” Thomas patted him on the back comfortingly.  
  
“And we will gladly leave the task of chopping his head off to you,” David nodded.  
  
D’Arida finally managed to smile.  
  
“One for all...” he said.  
  
“All for one!” they replied and hand in hand walked off into the sunset.  



End file.
